


Stolen Moment

by i_claudia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-29
Updated: 2010-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-05 20:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/410878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin slides lower on the wall, knees buckling, before he catches himself, digging his fingers hard into the cracks between the stones of the wall</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/52786.html#cutid2). (29 May 2010)

Merlin slides lower on the wall, knees buckling, before he catches himself, digging his fingers hard into the cracks between the stones of the wall. His trousers are open and around his knees, his belt undone and hanging loose, and Arthur’s hands are on his hips, pinning him while Arthur takes Merlin’s cock deep down his throat.

Arthur’s mouth is hot and slick, and when Merlin looks down he can see the spit shining on Arthur’s chin, on his lips, stretched wide and red around Merlin’s dick. Merlin shuts his eyes again, bites his fist hard to keep his moans safe inside his mouth, because there’s nothing more than a curtain of tapestry shielding them from where nearly all of Camelot is seated at banquet. He can’t help that his hips give a stuttering jerk forward, but Arthur gives a grunt of protest, pulling off to glare at Merlin and readjust his hands on Merlin’s hips, pinning him harder against the wall. 

“Sorry,” Merlin manages, gulping for breath. His skin is stretched too tight over his bones, across his belly; it prickles in the cold air. “I—oh, God, _Arthur_.” Merlin cuts himself off because Arthur’s licking him, a hot wide stripe up from his balls to the crown before taking Merlin in again, cheeks hollowing as he sucks, head bobbing steadily as he works his way slowly back down the length of Merlin’s cock.

“Oh fuck,” Merlin whimpers, scraping his fingers harder against the wall, trying to find a grip so he won’t lay a hand on Arthur’s head, won’t tangle his fingers deep into the fine hair the new crown rests on and let himself go, fuck Arthur’s mouth deep and hard until he comes down Arthur’s throat. He knows better than that; those aren’t the rules of this game today.

It’s obscene, the picture they make: disheveled manservant half-propped against the wall, young king on his knees in front of him, sucking his dick messily, greedily, making soft, indecent noises as he does. Merlin can feel Arthur’s nose brushing the curls gathered tight around the base of his cock, can feel Arthur’s spit dripping slowly down over his balls. He’s close. He knows the shivers and tightenings in his limbs mean he won’t last much longer, and he concentrates on breathing, staring hard at the ceiling as he tries to will himself back from the brink, make this last just a little longer.

Arthur notices, though, hums a protest that makes Merlin gasp before taking him to the root and _swallowing_.

“Arthur,” Merlin begs – warns – pushing blindly at Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur, fuck, _Arthur_.”

Arthur doesn’t budge, though, holding Merlin fast while Merlin comes in a hot rush down his throat.

Merlin’s knees crumple entirely when Arthur finally lets him go, and he slides to a heap on the floor, every nerve and muscle undone completely. Arthur settles back on his heels, Merlin between his legs, and fumbles desperately at his own belt; when Merlin reaches a hand out with the woozy thought that he should help, Arthur bats him away.

Arthur’s cock is dark and richly veined, shiny at the head where it’s already leaking, and he works himself expertly, hand fast and sure until he’s catching himself with his free hand on the wall behind Merlin, cock jerking as he comes all over Merlin’s best tunic. 

Merlin wants to protest, complain that he’s supposed to go back and serve at the feast, but Arthur’s eyes are half-lidded with lazy warmth and Arthur’s mouth is swollen red, still slick from spit and Merlin’s come, and when Arthur leans in for a deep, possessive kiss, Merlin kisses him back, winding his arms loose around Arthur’s neck while he licks his own taste from Arthur’s mouth. The feast, he decides, can wait.


End file.
